


Journey To the Past

by BHC



Category: Hannibal (TV), King Arthur (2004)
Genre: Anal Sex, Brief Violence, Fluff, Fortunetelling, Hannigram - Freeform, Headcanon, M/M, Psychics, Reincarnation, Smut, blood/gore mention, cannibal mention, tristhad - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-12-10
Updated: 2014-12-10
Packaged: 2018-02-28 20:46:43
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 5
Words: 6,228
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2746478
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/BHC/pseuds/BHC
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Will stumbles upon a psychic who shows him a past life that could explain why he is drawn to Hannibal.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Durrikan (Doo-ree-ken): English Gypsy/Fortune Telling

**Author's Note:**

> _[Can also be found on my deviantart]_  
>  A prompt from a prompt generator coupled with a beloved headcanon and a tad influence from a fave Tumblr blog [Mindpalace] helped concoct a day long project
> 
> Also--this is my first time doing a work in actual chapters

 

Carnival! Will Graham always enjoyed going to the carnival when it was in town even if it was in a mall. The scenery: bright, alive, and loaded with laughter as families, lovers, and friends all shared in the fun times to be had; it all was a major contrast to everything that Will faced day after day, with the gloom and doom of murder, loss, and the horrid realization that things were never as they really seemed.

He smiled as a couple of over enthusiastic children, cuddling newly won stuffed animals, sprinted towards one of the long lines. His gaze followed them while his mind tried to settle on the next activity he should enjoy. He had already ridden the one small roller coaster and played a few games. There was always bumper cars. Wouldn't hurt to take a walk through the house of mirrors.

He looked around hoping something would pop out at him. And for some reason he became transfixed on a booth; a fortuneteller's booth. Although, Will was not one to believe in such things, he couldn't move on from it. He was curious; felt that it was nonsense but well worth a bit of fun. Almost without thinking about it his legs moved him forward towards the booth. He lifted up the covering and ducked into mysterious kiosk, the smell of incense hitting him in the face.

“Welcome, my dear,” called a deep voice from somewhere to Will's right.

Will nodded and gave out a quick and quiet, “Hi.”

Before him stood a slightly taller, darker complected, older man. His face shone with the utmost kindness and understanding; the eyes seeming almost older than they were. A quick glance at his wardrobe: he was not dressed like the stereotype. He wore a pair of worn jeans and a white t-shirt and not a single piece of jewelry.

“Please, have a seat.” The psychic gestured for Will to sit down on a small stool at a low table in the middle of the workplace.

As he took up the offer, Will took a look around, noticing he was surrounded by bottles and trinkets and all the cliché you see on TV. The psychic took his place not too long after Will's butt hit the cushiony seat.

“I am Durrikan,” he announced. “I have the abilities to tell you who you are now, what you will be if current events do not change, and who you were in other times, among other things. I feel right now, you are skeptic.”

Will nodded a little and flashed a halfy grin. “I don't believe in such things, no.”

“But yet, you were drawn here from some reason. Weren't you, Will Graham?”

For a brief moment, Will was shocked that Durrikan knew his name without ever being told, but then he remembered that the press, including one Freddie Lounds, made sure everyone knew who he was. 'Nice try,' he thought.

“You're right, that's not enough proof. I know about Hannibal Lecter, and about what he is.”

The sentence, coupled with the expression on his face was enough to send chills up Will's spine. Surely he doesn't mean--- He can't know that----

“Hannibal Lecter, the psychiatrist. He is a cannibal. He's the Chesapeake Ripper, Will.”

Felling numb now, Will lowered his voice and leaned towards the other, “How do you know? And how come you've never gone to the police with this information.”

A slight chuckle. “They would not believe me. Many police and courts wouldn't accept “I have psychic abilities” as enough proof. Hell, they might even start accusing me. Might even start getting framed just so the blame is as far away from the truth as possible. Trust me, I know.” Again, Will nodded; a little more umf to it, making his dark, curls bounce. “So, what would you like to know?”

Will's mind went blank as he sat there in a flabbergasted silence.

“I know.” Durrikan flashed a mischievous smile. “Deep down, you want to know why you feel connected to this cannibalistic friend of yours.” Will suddenly found his eyes lining up with his. “It barely has anything to do with your empathy. It has nothing to do with your FBI work; although fate has a hand in that. You are bound to his soul by a promise. I'm not sure if soul mates though. And even if, that doesn't necessarily mean anything sexual.” He had easily predicted Will's protest. “Sometimes souls are just meant to be together, in any way possible.

“Now then. Do you want the full story?”

Even after all that, Will was still slightly leery. And the only question that came to his mind: “How much does something like that cost?”

Durrikan chuckled; a tad bit more into it than before. “Honestly, man, it's whatever you feel it's worth. I do need some kind of payment, but I will not bankrupt you in the process. And amount of the green does not affect the quality of your experience.”

“You----you're definitely, different aren't you?”

“If you haven't noticed, I don't really stick to clichés. Well, expect for a few decorations that serve no other purpose.

“Your journey, then. Will you take it?”

Will started to dig for his wallet but was stopped.

“Ah, ah, ah, nope. Not now. After.”

Like a flash Durrikan stood up and walked outside, possibly to put out a sign to discourage anyone else from wandering in and interrupting. Then he lit some incense and got a large bowl to which he began pouring the contents of some of the bottles into it while whispering something. He brought it back to the table and took a deep breath before speaking.

“I realize that this is not a crystal ball nor can I confirm that this is how everyone else does things, but this is the way I and my abilities work.” He handed Will a small cup. “I know it can seem kind of fishy, but I promise you: nothing in this will harm you. That would be stupid of me since this carnival is actually pretty well monitored and I am a properly registered booth. Please, dip your cup in the bowl. Gaze deep into the ripples as you do. Then before drinking, take a deep breath. Drink the entire contents of your cup and keep Hannibal and your current relationship in your mind. You will slip into a bit of a spell; a kind of trance or out of body experience. All will be fine. Well, there's a possibility you'll wake up with one hell of a headache.”

Against every fiber of his being, he did as instructed and sure enough, his head began to spin. The little booth, Durrikan, the carnival—all if it seemed to swirl and fade away into black.

 


	2. Knights Past

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Will becomes Galahad, who is on a mission with Tristan

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The hardest part was trying to keep the 5th century in mind ('they would not say things in such a way')

 

“Wake up, boy. A new day has arrived.”

Eyes fluttered open; stunned just a little from the morning light shinning through the cloth over him. Complete focus aloud him to see that the cloth was a crude tent, poorly shielding him from the morning dew and sunrise. When he found himself more alert, Will rose from the ground which had apparently been his bed.

Wait---Will? No, it can't be Will. That feels wrong. That is not the label this body goes by.

“Galahad!”

'Yes, that's it.' And just like that the confusion was gone, whatever traces of Will dissipated just like most dreams.

Galahad left the tent to join his friend and fellow knight, a slightly taller, older man with sharp features. Tristan: that's what he's called. He was standing a few feet away from their sleeping spot, watching his faithful bird, Chopper, take a morning flight; the wind slightly blowing his long, dark, messy mane.

“Finally, you're awake,” he growled when Galahad joined his side. “Was worried I was going to have to leave you here. Did sleep not come easy for you?”

Galahad smiled and shook his head in a familiar manner. “I'm honestly not real sure. I don't remember waking up during the night, but I do feel a bit more tired than I should.”

“Perhaps the ground does not serve as a fair bed for you.”

The young knight rolled his eyes and turned on his heel to begin packing up their campsite. They had a long journey ahead of them and they had a deadline to make. Tristan took it upon himself to double check that everything was secure on the horses. But not without a complaint or two.

“It figures I'd have to be the one to do such a tedious chore such as a supply run,” he began as he finished and then hoisted himself up on his horse.

Others may have been irritated with such an attitude. Galahad chose to look on the brighter side. “Come now.  _ We  _ have been trusted to do a very important task. It feels to be a bit of a compliment, really. Faith has been bestowed upon as that we can handle this task and do so in a timely manner.”

“We are knights  _ not _ errand boys.”

“Well, take pride in being both.” He smiled smugly.

“I suppose this travel will help us get to know each other better.”

“That is also true. We should learn that we can trust each other if we are to fight side by side.”

They continued through the seemingly endless woods, talking of old friends, lost families, and lovers long since forgotten. They shared all their memories: the good and the bad; forming and shaping a friendship.

Shortly after sunset they arrived at their destination. However, they arrived late and were unable to pick up what they needed, forcing them to spend the night at a local inn.

The old innkeeper was not thrilled about servicing the knights. She angrily told them that she had just the one room left and that it wasn't overly cheap. “Take it or leave it.”

Tristan glared at the old woman, nearly showing his teeth while Galahad quickly thought about how much money they had. He was sure they had more than enough.

“That will be fine.” His hand shot up to stop his companion from possibly, literally, biting the innkeepers head off.

A deep growl was ill contained as they walked to their door. “I can't stand people who show no or very little respect.”

The statement nearly caused the younger man to full on laugh. “You're certainly one to talk.”

Tristan titled his head towards the lad, an ornery smirk on his face.

The door was unlocked and opened, welcoming them to a small room with one bed.

“I suppose this is better than sleeping outside.” Galahad turned to Tristan, a look of disgust replacing what mischief had been there. “Look, I'll sleep on the floor, you take the bed.”

“Nonsense,” came the gentle reply. “You couldn't even handle sleeping on the ground. A wood floor would be worse. And we need a good rest in order to finish our 'mission' successfully. The bed is big enough for the both of us.”

With that they stripped down to their pants and crawled under the covers. Almost instantly Tristan began to softly snore. Galahad, on the other hand, found himself unlucky of such an ability. He laid with his back towards his friend and stared off into the little room, listening to the sounds of sleeping. Eventually, he found his current position uncomfortable and very carefully turned to his other side.

He closed his eyes in hopes of suddenly drifting off, but again, it was met with resistance. His eyes reopened and he found himself watching Tristan sleep. His hairy, muscular chest rising up with every breath. In this peaceful state, Galahad was able to appreciate the almost artistic, chiseled face; the distinct cheekbones, soft looking lips, eyelids hiding the kind, brown eyes that were usually kept behind a mess of hair.

Ah, his hair. Galahad was unable to keep himself from reaching out and touching the braid that was close to his face. Convinced it was safe, his hands drifted from the locks, to the cheekbones. Tristan stirred just a little making Galahad's heart stop. He didn't wake, thankfully. It didn't discourage Galahad from wanting to resume his touching. His light touches went back to the cheeks and gently trickled down to the chest, stroking the hair that covered it.

“May I ask what you are doing?”

Galahad nearly fell off the bed in shock. He was unsure how he was going to explain himself or what would happen next. But his mind eased when he saw the expression on Tristan's face. He had a heartwarming smile and his barely open eyes shined with compassion. Galahad bashfully smiled back.

Without further word, not even a warning, Tristan rolled to his right side and wrapped his arms around Galahad, settling his face in messy curls. Galahad snuggled as close as he could. The warm embrace caused the seasoned knight to fall back asleep and the younger one to finally drift off.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I will admit that I have only seen King Arthur twice and had to actually look up some bits. And then what I couldn't find answers for, I bs my way through
> 
> Oh! And while I was writing, I looked a pic of Mads to figure out exactly how I wanted to describe Tristan. I had my music on and the song changed to Marc Anthony's 'Come to Me'. I nearly died....


	3. Tough Travels

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Having to lug a cart might as well be a target on their backs.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ~*Fluff*~

 

They awoke with the sun and decide to grab a bite to eat and pint at a pub. Barely a word was spoken to them when they ordered and ate. The feeling of a dozen or more pairs of eyes haunted them. Occasionally a faint whisper could be heard, but otherwise it was unnaturally quiet.

The unsettling atmosphere never left as they made their way to the warehouse were they were supposed to pick up the supplies. The gentleman that spoke with them and took the payment was a charming, calm, and easygoing businessman; an absolute pleasure to deal with. His workers on the other hand were the complete opposite. They grumbled and stared at the two knights, like they were responsible for every misfortune that had ever befallen on them. It raised a few flags in Tristan.

“Will you relax?” Galahad whispered quickly.

The reply was a very hushed, yet angry, “No. I will not.”

“Some people are just uneasy around knights. They feel we're nothing but ruffians and trouble makers; chaos follow us wherever we go. But mostly, I think they're just angry at the situation that they are in.”

“And that's what makes me uneasy! Desperate people will do desperate things. And since we are buying all these goods, it may appear to them that we are easy money. Do not let your guard down, boy.”

The small cart hooked up to Galahad's horse wasn't the only thing that followed them out of town; a few harsh 'good riddance's could be heard over the clanging. It was a great comfort seeing the village's border disappear behind them as they rode out, Chopper flying above them. But the uneasy feeling that Tristan had back at the warehouse stayed with him and seemed to grow more intense. And for a good reason. About a mile past the point where the village could no longer be seen the sound of more horses could be heard and horrific shadows appeared to their sides.

“Are you seeing that too?” Galahad questioned, slightly panicked.

“I'm well aware.” Tristan focused solely on the road ahead of him. “Do not do anything until my signal. If these are who I'm sure they are, this is going to get very bloody.”

Hooves sounded closer and both looked back to see one of the assailants come onto the road, picking up speed. Sure enough it was one of the men who worked at the warehouse. It gave him a kind of home court advantage. He knew how much the extra weight would slow down the horse and rider; there was no way that Galahad could outrun him without ditching their supplies.

The riders to their side started to drift closer too and eventually a forth horse appeared from the forest, finishing surrounding them, forcing them to significantly slow down.

While reaching for his bow and an arrow, Tristan command, “I'm going to need you to jump of your horse when I am finished.”

Even though he wasn't exactly sure what he meant, Galahad made sure his weapons were ready and nodded.

In a fluid motion, Tristan readied the bow and shot it straight ahead of him. The arrow hit its mark in the back of the offender's head, causing them to slump over off the horse, which took off in another direction as soon as it realized that it was no longer being guided. At the same time, Tristan and Galahad both jumped off their horses (and unlike the attacker's, their horses stopped off to the side to wait for them). The man that was following passed between them allowing Galahad to take him out just as Tristan had the first one. Two down/two to go.

One of them dismounted their horse and attacked with a sword. Tristan went after him as Galahad kept an eye on what the forth was doing. They stayed cloaked and were still on their horse but stayed and moved among the trees making it difficult for any kind of clear shot. They did not have any weapons out, however, and gave no indication that they were going to help their fellow thief. Meanwhile, Tristan fought with man. He was very good with a sword and definitely a worthy foe, even managed to land a blow to Tristan's arm. But he was no match for the knight's skills. With an expert swing Tristan nearly decapitated him, leaving the promised bloody mess.

Galahad drew his sword and sprinted to join Tristan, both taking a defensive stance as the last attacker dismounted. The hooded figure walked towards them, still not drawing any weapons. In fact they kept their hands raised away from their sword. Just out of the protection of the trees the figure pushed their hood back, exposing  _ her _ face.

“Please, I mean you no harm,” the young woman pleaded. “One of these men was my father.” Neither man lowered their weapons. She continued. “He raised me alone and felt the only true way for us to escape poverty was to become thieves and murders. I don't want to be a part of this lifestyle but he forced me to. He forced me to do a lot of things I didn't want nor am I proud of. Defending these actions by saying 'it's the only way.' Please forgive me.”

The knights pondered the situation. She sounded sincere enough, but there was always the possibility that this was a final trap. But the longer they stared at her face, trying to read her, the more scars they noticed and true tears formed in her eyes. Could she just be putting on a show? Even Tristan's gut felt it hard to disbelieve her.

“Please. I just want to put my father and his plans for me behind me and just live a good, normal life. I will do anything to prove myself to you. Anything.”

Galahad was the first to lower his sword. Tristan lingered on the idea of deceit, but after careful study of her eyes he could find no lies. He too lowered his sword.

“You are free to go and begin a new path,” he told her. “But if I hear word of you taking over where your father left off, I swear I will hunt you down myself.”

She gave an exhausted 'thank you' and hopped on her horse, heading back to town where she'd tell the story of the kind knights who did not take the spoils of war in the ecstasy of victory.

Focus back at the knights: Galahad felt the rush of wining a battle and turned to his companion, smiling. Tristan, however, scowled and breathed heavily.

“I warned you, didn't I?” he growled loud enough to get Chopper's attention.

Just as fast as his heart was beating, Galahad lost the happy feeling. “What? Why are you getting mad at me? I had nothing to do with all that.”

He turned his body fully to Galahad. “I know. I---I'm just angry that it happened.”

“So, you're taking it out on me?” He turned too, throwing his hands up in the air.

Tristan lowered his head and began walking towards his patiently waiting horse, Galahad following right behind him. “It's just---witnessing something as tragic as that. Or what if she's lying. We don't know---.”

“Well, if she had something planned, one would think she would have set it in motion by now.”

Tristan continue to scowl. “Still though, something could have happened and we could have failed the mission.” Upon reaching his horse he stripped of his shirt and pulled out his pouch of water to clean his wound. Galahad busied himself by grabbing some cloth for bandage, dressing the wound when Tristan finished with the water. Tristan continued. “Or worse. Something could have happened--- to you.” His eyes met Galahad's when the final word fell from his lips. His hand found and cradled the other's cheek. But not for long. He seemed to be disgusted with himself for opening up his heart.

The younger man's thoughts became scrambled. “Tristan, I---I don't---”

“I know we've only be working together for a short time and barely spoke to each other before this task. But after really talking with you....I just want to protect you at all costs. I feel--- we're connected. Like we are kin.”

Still holding onto his arm, Galahad took a deep breath, letting the words sink in realizing that that is exactly how he felt. “I understand.”

Tristan's hand returned to Galahad's cheek and was followed by a gentle kiss. Tristan broke it, but didn't pull his face away. They stood nose to nose for a brief moment before Galahad closed the distance again. He threw his arms around Tristan's neck, while Tristan's hands fondled his lower back. Their tongues danced and teased each other. The seconds seemed to pass like minutes as they got lost in the adrenaline and their confessions. Galahad's hand wandered up to Tristan's hair and gave a loving pull. It caused him to laugh.

Once his lips were free, he chuckled, “well, that's not like you. I thought I was the more aggressive one.”

“There's still things I have not told you.” Galahad joked back. His attention turned towards the position of the sun. “Blimey! We need to get moving again.”

“You're right. Business first.”

They got back up on their horses, Tristan commanded Chopper back to the sky, and they took off back towards base, opting to ride through the night to make up for lost time. They were confident that themselves and their steeds would be alright long enough to make it back to their current home.

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I had an idea where our heroes were heavily outnumbered and Chopper had to swoop in to distract one of the baddies so Tristan could get him, but the way this turned out couldn't yield to that idea so it was scrapped


	4. The Promise

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Back home safe and sound, a bath in the lake leads to a roll in the hay

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> OMG! Where'd that come from^
> 
> Yes  
>  _*Here be porn*_  
>  Feel free to skip if you want. The important plot bit will be in the notes at the beginning (so those who skip won't miss anything)

By the time they started to feel the effect of a long, sleepless journey they were near the village were they and their fellow knights, were stationed. They slowed the horses down to a trot. Even poor Chopper felt their pain and perched himself on Tristan's shoulder for a bit of rest.

“I believe it would be wise to keep certain aspects of our tale quiet,” Tristan warned.

Galahad nodded. “Agreed. Can't imagine the torment the lot of them would put us through.”

“We'd never hear the end of it just like Bors not being able to piss straight.”

“Course he does that to himself.”

They both laughed.

Galahad changed his voice in an attempt to imitate one of the other knights, “Do you fellows need a good roll in the hay before we go out for a slay?”

“It's a good way to get the blood pumping early.”

“Honestly, never thought I'd be cracking jokes with you.”

Tristan's mischievous smile spread across his face. “Only for you, love.”

He may never get used to hearing Tristan say that word outside of killing or alcohol or Chopper.

Finally, the mission was complete. Galahad handed his horse off to one of the stableboys while the cart was unloaded. Tristan had already disappeared most likely to catch up on his rest. Galahad felt he should probably follow his example. Everyone can hear the story later when he hit the pub.

The moment he found his bed and closed his eyes, he was asleep. His dreams laced with the events from the day before, mostly centering on the newly formed relationship. They ended and were forgotten as soon as his eyes opened hours later. The sun's position told him it was sometime in the late evening. It wasn't setting yet, but it would be in about an hour or so.

His first impulse, after his feet hit the floor, was to go find Tristan. He tried his room first. After a few knocks on the door, he discovered that there was no on in there. He went to the pub thinking he'd be there bragging about how he took out twenty men while Galahad was knocked out. But once again, did not find who he was looking for.

“Anyone know where Tristan has gone?” He asked the crowd.

“He headed off west,” he heard Lancelot answer.

So, west he headed. He wondered how far west and what he would be doing. He found his answer at a lake. There was Tristan, his back towards him, stripping of his shirt, his pants, and undergarments. Galahad gazed in wonder at the well toned bare ass before him. The impressive back muscles being just as hypnotic. He stepped forward wanting a better view, snapping a twig. The noise caught Tristan's ear and he looked over his shoulder, already knowing who was behind him.

“I knew you'd come looking for me,” he mused.

The low hanging sun casted an unimaginable glow around him. In the distance Chopper swopped down, possibly eying a fish. Even the most talented of their painters couldn't capture the beauty of the scenery.

“Looks like you need to clean up too, boy.” He gestured at the layers of dirt on Galahad's exposed skin. A small smile came over both of their faces.

Tristan dove into the lake while Galahad took off his clothing. Then he joined him in the water. It felt chilly but not overly cold. He watched as Tristan ran his hand over dirtier spots of his body.

“Ah, blood is fun, but it's almost tortuously itchy when it dries on,” he griped, his hands moving over his face.

“Agreed.”

Galahad took a deep breath and dunked his head in the water. While under he shook his hair hoping to get any debris in it out. He came up gasping for breath, causing his muscular chest to heave. It did not go unnoticed.

“Hold on,” Tristan said as he swam up to him. “You've missed a spot.”

As a mother would to a child, he gently stroked his thumb across a speck of dirt on Galahad's cheek. When he was sure it was gone, he removed his hand and his eyes met Galahad's. They gazed at each other until, in unison as if reading each others minds, they brought their lips together. Kissing more passionately than yesterday. Galahad's fingers lacing through the wet, tangled mane. Tristan's hand drifted down to Galahad's erection, causing him to gasp slightly and jump.

“Is something wrong?” he was asked.

His face turned red. “Sorry. Just surprised me, is all. Um.” He coughed. “I—“

“I didn't mean to startle you. We can finish bathing first, if that will help.”

Help recover over the embarrassment, then yes.

They spent the rest of their time in the water actually bathing, getting as much dirt and blood of off themselves as possible, while discussing what may await them in the future, including food and drink. It did help Galahad relax again.

With the bathing completed they got out of the water; Tristan first. Seeing his wet, naked body got Galahad's attention. When he hoisted himself out of the lake he noticed that Tristan, too, was excited. He couldn't control himself. He nearly went flying at Tristan's face.

The hurried and enthusiastic kisses turned to nuzzling and deep stares into eyes then back to kissing. Very carefully, Tristan guided Galahad to his back on the ground. He laid next to him and commenced rubbing his inner thigh while kissing from his ear down to his collarbone. This time it was Galahad who began stroking him. It tingled just right and he awarded his lover with little bites on the neck. Both moaned in pleasure.

Tristan felt the time was right to move on. His hand moved from the thigh, teasingly down the erection, and to Galahad's entrance. He slowly worked his index finger around the hole, unaware of what the reaction would be. All signs pointed to enjoyment and to continue. Eventually, he felt comfortable enough to attempt two fingers. After no complaints, he worked in three, stretching and moving around, prepping him.

Galahad started to leak pre-cum. Tristan would played with his tip a little, getting some on his fingers, which he'd then return to the previous task of stretching. During the activity, Tristan found a certain spot that Galahad seemed to really like having touched. The way he moaned and twitched really please him to the point he couldn't stand it anymore, and Galahad stroking him the entire time did not help. His fingers stopped what they were doing and he gave a couple more kisses, plus a light bite to Galahad's bottom lip.

Tristan positioned himself and Galahad just right so he could push into the under-prepared-best-he-can-do-under-these-cercumstances entrance. It felt rough and tight for both of them, but it most certainly wasn't unpleasurable. With each thrust Tristan gave, his lover cried out a little, both from pain and pleasure.

“Sh-shhhhhh. It's alright,” Tristan cooed in his ear following with a peck on the neck.

He took Galahad's hands in his and pinned him down, burying his face in Galahad's neck where his breath felt deliciously warm. Sometimes, he couldn't resist playing on the exposed neck. Experimenting what would happen if he licked, bit, or kissed and where he would place such attentions. Meanwhile, Galahad wrapped his legs around Tristan, encouraging him to go deep and hit that spot that he enjoyed.

Tristan picked up the pace as his muscles tightened indicating he was near orgasm. It was enough to send Galahad over the edge and he came all over their stomachs while gaspy little moans escaped his mouth. Tristan caught the last few with fevered kisses as his release finally hit and filled Galahad.

Exhausted from the experience, they laid in each others arms listening to their heartbeats settle. When they felt calmed down enough they made their way back to the lake to get clean once more. Somehow, they found themselves cuddling again.

“Galahad,” Tristan spoke after awhile.

“Yes.”

“I have been thinking and would like to make you a promise.” He paused. “I want to promise that I will do my best to always protect you. And in the event that I can't be around to do so, I'm going to teach you to be the best knight that anyone could ever possibly be.”

“Oh! Are you saying, you're going to teach me to be like you?” There was that ornery little smile that Tristan loved.

“Sure why, not. I also want to add that I promise to love you forever; even if you stop loving me. And I mean forever.”

“You promise?”

“I promise with all my heart and the very being of my existence.”

Tristan leaned forward and sealed the promise with a kiss.

 

_“And through that lifetime, they had many adventures, doing amazing things. From saving Guinevere to the epic fight against the Saxons where Tristan fought bravely, but still lost his life. Not before he made one last promise to Galahad: “You and I will find each other once again across the mountains.”_

 


	5. Found Each Other

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Will comes back to the 21st century and struggles with the new information he has learned

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I found that stuff was really lining up as I finishing and writing the Shiizakana/Naka-Choko recap (which require putting in the DVD to make sure I got it right)
> 
>  
> 
> _“I have been thinking and would like to make you a promise.” He paused. “I want to promise that I will do my best to always protect you. And in the event that I can't be around to do so, I'm going to teach you to be the best knight that anyone could ever possibly be.”_  
>  “Oh! Are you saying, you're going to teach me to be like you?” There was that ornery little smile that Tristan loved.  
> “Sure why, not. I also want to add that I promise to love you forever; even if you stop loving me. And I mean forever.”  
> “You promise?”  
> “I promise with all my heart and the very being of my existence.”  
> Tristan leaned forward and sealed the promise with a kiss.
> 
>  
> 
> _“And through that lifetime, they had many adventures, doing amazing things. From saving Guinevere to the epic fight against the Saxons where Tristan fought bravely, but still lost his life. Not before he made one last promise to Galahad: “You and I will find each other once again across the mountains.”_

Durrikan's voice seeped through the vision bringing Will back to the 21st century. A rush of his current life's memories came crashing down on him; Hannibal, Jack, Abigail, Alana, Beverly, everything just all at once causing the headache he was warned about.  
“Whoa,” was the first noise that left his lips.  
“Easy now. That was quite a trip wasn't it?” Durrikan smiled the biggest smile anyone could possibly give.  
“Yeah, yeah it was.”  
Durrikan handed him a bottle of water. He almost downed it in one gulp. Being rehydrated majorly helped with the headache.  
He waited until Will cleared his head before moving forward in the evaluation. “I'm sure you have many questions.”  
“I do.” Will moved to sit the empty bottle down. Durrikan made a signal he'd take it and it was handed over. He cleared his throat. “So, this means that in another life Hannibal and I were knights and lovers?” That was an idea he just couldn't wrap his head around. “I was Galahad and Hannibal was----”  
“Tristan. Yes. Tristan told you that he felt connected to you somehow. I believe you and Hannibal have shared other lives together. You are soul mates. But, like I've said, that doesn't have to mean that you pick up exactly where the other lives left. It just means your souls are meant to be together. Even with an eternal, deep promise of love---”  
“No, that explains quite a bit, actually. But isn't King Arthur, Lancelot, the knights' tales, all that was just fairy tales and legends?”  
“Every fairy tale and legend have their roots in reality.”  
Will processed everything he had just seen and been told; how real the promises felt. He was starting to get ideas that even confused himself a little.  
Durrikan felt a slight disturbance. “Will, whatever you're thinking, you need to know that Hannibal is not Tristan, not anymore. You must be careful or you will follow a path of darkness that only leads to pain and suffering.”  
Will was only half listening as he took out his wallet and reached for few bills. “That was amazing and helpful. Worth every dime. Thank you.”  
“Be careful, Will.” Durrikan watched Will leave.  
Once alone, he placed the money in his safe and started to clean up, in case any others needed enlightenment. He went to take care of the big bowl when a vision flashed in it.  
“Oh, dear Will, I warned you.” A tear escaped his eye and hit the liquid causing a ripple.

Later, while Will was at home alone, his dogs gathered at the door. Barking and scratching like they wanted out in the worst way possible. Curious he opened the door to see what all the commotion was about, but in the process one of the smaller dogs bolted past his legs.  
“Buster!” he shouted out into the night.  
At first the only sound he heard was his echo, but then Buster's yipe pierced through the air like a knife. Quickly, he went back into his house, not without fighting to keep the other dogs inside, and grabbed his gun. He followed the tracks and found Buster badly hurt and whimpering on the ground. There was no sign of what or who had done such a thing. But an uneasy feeling told him he was not alone.  
He gently picked up Buster and went back home. Once inside he placed the dog amongst the safety of the others. Then shut off all the lights and closed the door. And he waited.  
Moments later a monster crashed through the window and attacked Will. He knew more or less what he was looking at and, more importantly, who was responsible: Hannibal. In fact visions of Hannibal flashed over the figure in front of him, causing a blind rage. A rage that enabled him to beat the human who wanted to be a vicious animal to death with his own bare hands.

Hannibal arrived home that night, after doing God knows what, to a slight surprise. Will waited for him in his dining room. The body of the young man with the animal dream laying dead on the table.  
“Even Steven,” Will chimed causing Hannibal to nod.  
Hannibal took of his jacket and answered back, “consider it an act of reciprocity.”  
“Polite society normally places such a taboo on taking a life,” Will tried to remind them.  
“Without death, we'd be at a loss. It's the prospect of death that drives us to greatness.” For a brief moment, Will heard Tristan.  
He asked Will if he had used his hands in killing him.  
“Yes....it was.....intimate,” he said darkly.  
“It deserves intimacy.”  
Hannibal retrieved a bowl, water, and bandages to clean and dress Will's wounds, not unlike what Galahad had done for Tristan. All the while, Will stared straight ahead at his kill, all the events of the day simmering in his brain, almost causing a numbness. Hannibal caught him, and nearly begged him not to be so withdrawn.  
“Stay with me.”  
Will slowly accepted what was meant to be and coldly replied, “Where else would I go?”  
The tiniest of smiles, enough to bring out a glimmer of pride in Hannibal's eyes. “You have everywhere to go.” A pause. “You should be quite pleased. I am.”  
“Of course you are.”  
That night the souls came full circle; using blood and death to once again, seal a bond and make a pact. It lead Will down that path of darkness, pain, and sorrow foretold by Durrikan.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I love fluff, I love smut, I love this headcanon...this was a fun exploration. I hope you enjoyed it


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